POV: Nova
The curse didn't kill them.
Nova felt it slam into the Crown's light like a wave crashing into a cliff, violent, certain, fully committed, and then fracture. The killing magic that should have torn through her brothers like winter lightning simply broke apart, scattered into sparks that faded before they reached anyone.
She stood there, breathing hard, one word still warm on her lips.
Enough.
The ballroom had gone completely silent.
Even Morgessa had gone still.
Then the witch's silver eyes moved from the fading sparks of the broken curse to Nova's chest, where the Crown's light still poured out steady and bright, and something shifted in her expression. The fury didn't disappear. It just got colder. Quieter. Smarter.
"Interesting," Morgessa said softly.
Nova had half a second of warning, one breath, one heartbeat before Morgessa moved.
Not toward Nova.
Toward Thorne.
